


Roll with the Punches (and Let Your Hurts Heal)

by Lazy8



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [16]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e14-15 The Boiling Rock, Gen, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Prisoner abuse, Zuko (Avatar) whump, dadkoda, internal bleeding, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27648179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazy8/pseuds/Lazy8
Summary: On the way back from the Boiling Rock, Zuko is hiding something, not knowing how serious it actually is.
Relationships: Hakoda & Katara (Avatar), Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1846456
Comments: 41
Kudos: 725
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Roll with the Punches (and Let Your Hurts Heal)

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** Internal Bleeding  
>  **Hurt Character:** Zuko  
>  **Comforting Character(s):** Sokka

It wasn't until they were actually on the airship and the prison was out of sight behind them that anyone dared breathe again.

Between Zuko, who had some experience piloting airships (albeit on a much smaller scale), and Sokka, who'd (apparently?) helped invent the things, they managed to figure out quickly enough how to handle Azula's zeppelin. Suki, who proved to be a quick study, was unanimously approved to take over steering. Finally, since the ship _was_ powered by hot air, Zuko took Chit Sang into the bowels of the metal monstrosity to show him how the boiler worked.

The good thing about driving an airship with firebending was that they needed no fuel. The bad thing was that at least one firebender needed to be down there at all times, and even by Fire Nation standards, the heat was oppressive. Not five minutes into his shift, Zuko's shirt was off—not like he'd be winning any fashion awards in that ratty prison uniform anyway. While he _did_ briefly consider just tossing it into the boiler and letting the whole thing burn, the fact of the matter was that he still didn't have anything _else_ to wear, and at this altitude, the _rest_ of the ship was a bit too chilly to be walking around shirtless. He'd make do. After all, he'd had to endure far worse in his life than wearing clothes he didn't like.

At least punching flames into the boiler helped provide an outlet for some of his turmoil. Seeing Mai again… seeing _Azula_ again… knowing that Mai had risked her life to save his even after he'd dumped her… Zuko knew his sister; he was harboring no illusions that she would let Mai's act of defiance go unpunished. The only question was how far she'd go. Personally, he was trying not to get his hopes up that she'd even still be _alive_ by the time they won the war.

… _if_ they won the war.

Zuko punched a few more fireballs into the boiler in his efforts to drown out _that_ thought.

He couldn't be sure how long he'd been down there by the time Chit Sang came in to relieve him. "Chief says you're welcome to join them up on the bridge, if you want," he said, jerking his thumb toward the door.

In all honesty, Zuko _didn't_ want to stop. He still had a lot of worry and frustration and swirling anxiety to work off. He also knew, though, from three years' worth of experience back during his banishment, that if he didn't stop and take a break once in a while, he'd drive himself to collapse, and then he'd end up having to explain _that_ , not just to Sokka but more likely than not to his father and girlfriend as well. Relenting, he picked up the discarded prison shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from his face.

"Got in a few fights, did you?"

Zuko, face still pressed into the fabric, froze. Then, he looked down at himself and groaned.

His torso was littered with a multitude of club- and boot-shaped marks, some of which had begun to darken into a rainbow of black and blue blotches, but many of which were still angrily red and puffy. Though he was normally pretty good at absorbing blows, it seemed that in this case he hadn't absorbed them _enough_.

"Guess you could say that." He pulled the shirt back over his head. "I'll be back down in about an hour."

Needless to say, knowing that Chit Sang had seen the bruises did nothing whatsoever to alleviate his tension. Nor did returning to the bridge to find that Sokka had gone off somewhere, leaving Zuko alone with the man whose children he'd spent several months harassing and the girl his sister had put in prison and whose village he'd burned down.

Suki, at least, seemed content to ignore him, turning back to the wheel after a quick glance around to see who'd come through the door. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Hakoda.

He had been chatting with Suki, both of them sharing a laugh over something or other that Sokka had done. A few minutes after Zuko's entrance, though, she excused herself to consult the map, and Hakoda's eyes immediately landed on him. To Zuko's alarm, he started heading over.

"Prince Zuko."

Zuko gave a slight nod, a show of respect to someone of equal standing. "Chief Hakoda."

"I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."

As a matter of fact, Zuko _did_ mind, but he also didn't feel as if he had a right to protest: he should have seen this coming. "I know you have no real reason to trust me," he began. "But I swear to you—"

"It's not that." The Chief brought him to a halt with a raised hand. "You helped me break out of prison and I trust my son's judgment; I'm not going to question your allegiances. I suppose I'm just curious as to why."

"There's not much to tell." (There was _far too much_ to tell.) "I saw a lot of what the Fire Nation was doing to the rest of the world. I realized that fa— _the Fire Lord_ was a monster. So…" he shrugged. "Here I am."

"I get the feeling there's a lot you're not saying." Zuko opened his mouth, but once again, Chief Hakoda held up a hand to stop him from speaking. " _But_ , it's not my business to pry if you'd rather keep it to yourself. Sokka trusts you, and I trust my son, and you seem to be here for the right reasons. That's enough for me." He pushed himself away from the wall. "At any rate, I think I should go make sure Sokka hasn't gotten lost on his way to the bath—"

It was right at that moment, though, that Sokka himself burst onto the bridge.

If Zuko had thought that this was the point where he would finally be left alone, he turned out to be sorely mistaken. The first thing that Sokka did upon stepping through the door was glance around the bridge, and then make a beeline straight for him.

"What is this Chit Sang said about you being hurt?"

Zuko groaned, leaning his head back against the wall. "I'm _fine_. Besides, it's not like I've never been hurt before." He started to push himself away from the wall with the intention of stalking off somewhere (maybe back down to the boiler room, at least no one would bother him there), only to be stopped by Sokka's hand on his shoulder.

"At least let us take a look. There's no good reason for you to be walking around with untreated injuries if you don't have to."

"I told you, I'm—"

"If you don't cooperate," Suki jumped in, never moving from her place at the wheel or even turning around to look at him, "you're going to make my boyfriend worry. I don't like it when my boyfriend is worried, and I'll have you know I can and will restrain you if I have to." Her voice was dripping sweet in a way that sent shivers up and down his spine.

"Fine." Zuko still didn't like this, but he knew when he was beaten; after all, he'd just _seen_ Suki fight. With a huff, he peeled off the prison shirt for the second time that day. "See? It's just a couple of bruises."

When he'd finished pulling the last of the cloth over his head, he saw that Sokka and his father were now looking at him with identical worried frowns. He met their concern with a scowl. "What?"

"Zuko…" Sokka's worry, if anything, seemed to have intensified. "That's… more than a couple of bruises."

"Sokka is right." The Chief laid a supportive hand on his son's shoulder, looking slightly less frantic but no less worried. "Injuries like that can be a lot more serious than they seem."

"I told you," Zuko repeated, though his voice didn't project nearly as much conviction as he would have liked it to. "I'm fine." The last two words came out in a whisper.

By this point, though, they seemed to have given up on reasoning with him in favor of ignoring his protestations completely. "Prince Zuko?" Chief Hakoda said instead, as cautious as if he were approaching a skittish wild animal. "I'm going to touch you for a couple of seconds, okay? I just want to check how badly you're hurt."

Well, he was cornered now, so he only nodded, eyes averted. He still couldn't quite hold in a hiss of pain when the Chief pressed a hand to his stomach.

"That's… not good."

"Not good _how?_ " Sokka's voice had risen so high that his question ended on a squeak.

Chief Hakoda's eyes flicked back and forth between them, as if considering how much he should tell them, but then he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "I've seen men die from this," he confessed at last. "It usually doesn't look bad at first, but they're still bleeding to death on the inside, just as surely as if you'd cut them open." Zuko felt his whole body grow cold at the words; surely he hadn't been injured _that_ badly… had he?

As for Sokka, he had just gone paler than Zuko ever would have thought possible for a Water Tribesman. "Dad…" he whispered. "What do we _do?_ "

"First of all, we don't panic." Hakoda reached out to grasp his son by both shoulders. "There's not a whole lot most healers can do to treat this, but I'm pretty sure your sister can." He waited until Sokka gave a shaky nod before releasing him with a final squeeze. "Zuko, you are going to sit down and you are going to stay still. Sokka, you are going to find Chit Sang and inform him of the situation, and then grab some blankets if you can find any. Suki, I want _you_ to see whether there's any way to make this airship go faster."

His voice carried an air of command that was not to be questioned. Sokka rushed off to do as he said.

"So what happened?"

Zuko looked up. The Chief had sat down next to him, and was looking at him with a concerned expression.

He only gave a brief shrug before returning his gaze to his lap. "I'm not exactly popular in the Fire Nation right now."

"Some of the other prisoners did this?"

In response, Zuko shook his head. "The guards."

The older man frowned. "I knew the Boiling Rock was a pretty bad place, but I didn't think the guards would beat a child."

Zuko couldn't help it: he laughed. "Trust me," he said. "There's not a whole lot they could do to me that would be worse than what my father has already done."

When the Chief gave him a questioning look, he waved a hand toward the left side of his face. "How do you think I got _this?_ "

Within seconds, Chief Hakoda's expression went from puzzled concern to an expression of absolute horror. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Sokka burst back onto the bridge.

"Dad! I got the blankets! What do we do now?"

* * *

It had been two hours.

It had been two hours, two hours of nothing but sitting punctuated by tense conversation that he wished would just _stop_ already, and even though Zuko _had_ thought he was fine, now even he had to admit that he wasn't so sure.

At some point during the ride, he'd broken out in a cold sweat, and not even Sokka sitting pressed right up against him and wrapping a blanket around them both was enough to make him feel warm again. Once, he'd tried to stand up (in spite of the fact that everyone else on the bridge had vehemently protested), only to be hit by a wave of dizziness that had immediately forced him to sit back down again. In the end, he'd had to explain through gritted teeth that he needed the bathroom, and then to submit to the indignity of Sokka and Hakoda carrying him there, forming a makeshift chair of their arms while he wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders. Even after reaching his destination, he'd found to his alarm that he was now bleeding in places that should _never, ever_ have blood coming out of them.

Even worse than all of that, though, was the impending sense of dread that was slowly overtaking him.

"Hey, Sokka?"

"Hm?" Sokka now had an arm wrapped around him, and was absently rubbing his shoulder.

"I don't think I'm going to make it."

"No." Sokka turned to face him, and was now gripping his shoulders as if about to start shaking him, but then thought better of it at the last minute. "No, Zuko, _do not_ talk like that. You are _not_ allowed to die for _my_ plan. We are _almost there_ , and Katara _will_ be able to heal you—"

"Sokka, Katara _hates_ me."

"Well, yeah, but she's still going to _help_ you. She isn't a monster." Zuko didn't answer, only slumped back against the wall. His vision was going gray. Desperately, Sokka turned his gaze back up to the helm. "Suki, _please_ tell me we're close."

"I don't—" Mid-sentence, though, she leaned forward, squinting. "Wait. Didn't you say the Western Air Temple was built hanging upside-down from the bottom of a cliff edge?"

Immediately, Sokka leaped to his feet and was sprinting forward to look over her shoulder. "It is! Zuko! Hey, Zuko! We're here!"

Zuko could barely hear him. His increasingly fuzzy vision was now accompanied by a ringing in his ears. He opened his mouth, but no sound would come out. Instead, the cloud that had been gathering at the edges of his eyesight now blacked out his vision entirely, and he didn't even have the energy to try to catch himself as he slumped sideways toward the floor of the ship.

The last thing he was aware of was a pair of strong arms breaking his fall as Chief Hakoda reached out to catch him.

* * *

They were being attacked.

That was the only explanation for the Fire Nation warship that was now hovering in the sky, having stopped right above the rim of the canyon. She knew it, she _knew_ that Zuko couldn't be trusted, he must have given Sokka the slip at some point during their fishing trip and she'd _told_ her brother not to go off alone with him, and he'd shown his true colors at last and shared their location with the Fire Nation army and Katara was going to _kill_ him, she was actually, literally going to kill him, and he'd better _hope_ she never got her hands on him if something had happened to her brother, because she—

Katara's mounting rage gave way to confused worry when, instead of a barrage of bombs or fireballs, a lone human figure rappelled from the belly of the ship, hit the ground running, and sprinted directly for her. They hadn't seen each other since they'd stood outside the walls of Ba Sing Se, and she was much harder to recognize without her makeup, but the closer she got, the surer Katara became about her identity. That was…

"…Suki?"

"Emergency," Suki said tersely, fingers closing around her wrist, and started dragging Katara back toward the airship amid the startled exclamations of the others. "No time to explain."

So, Katara choked down her questions—how was Suki here, _why_ was Suki here, and where in _La's_ name was her brother—and followed. During the time it had taken for Suki to approach and intercept her, the airship had managed to make a proper landing and extend a metal walkway. Though Katara felt her stomach clench at the thought of stepping into the belly of one of the Fire Nation's metal monstrosities, she swallowed down her nerves: Suki, she knew, was trustworthy, and the other girl would never willingly lead her into a trap.

Her confusion gave way to weak-kneed relief when Sokka came skidding out of the control room to meet her (there was definitely a story behind whatever was going on here, and she _would_ be getting it out of him the second anyone saw fit to actually sit down and _talk to her_ ). Without a word, he pushed open the door, only to reveal…

" _Dad!?_ "

The wave of happiness came crashing right back down, though, when she saw the expression on her father's face: grim worry, making way for just the slightest bit of relief at the sound of her voice. When she looked down and saw the red-clad body in his arms, she understood enough.

"What happened?" she asked as she knelt down next to him, hands already coated with water.

"He took a few hard blows to the stomach sometime before we staged our escape." At her indication, he pulled up Zuko's shirt, exposing the rainbow of bruises that littered his torso. "We tried to keep him warm and we didn't let him move around, but other than that, there wasn't a whole lot we could do."

"You did the right thing. He might not have survived the journey, otherwise." Pressing her lips together, Katara touched water-coated hands to Zuko's abdomen, and froze.

_Jet_.

That was all she could think as she began her assessment of the damage. _Jet, Jet, Jet, Jet, Jet_. Jet had _died_ because he'd been injured in ways that she couldn't fix, and now she found herself hovering over Zuko, who'd somehow sustained injuries so similar that for a moment, she'd found herself once more beneath Lake Laogai. Jet had also been bleeding inside, and while he'd been bleeding a lot more heavily… Zuko had been bleeding for a lot longer.

What had Yugoda taught her? Assess. Prioritize. Her first order of business was to stop the bleeding. As she knelt on the cold metal floor and let the water do its work, she peripherally noticed the group of people gathering around her: her friends and family, the other temporary occupants of the Western Air Temple.

She and Zuko were not friends. He had hurt her and people she cared about far too many times for her to be ready to forgive him. That still didn't mean she wanted him _dead_.

So, she worked. She laid her hands against him and did everything she could to repair the damage. To stop the bleeding, and drain the blood that had pooled in places it wasn't supposed to be. She did it because she was a healer, and a healer's duty was first and foremost to do no harm. She did it because of the desperate, pleading look in Aang's eyes. She did it because Aang needed to learn firebending, and there was no other teacher available. She did it because she would never, _ever_ turn her back on someone who needed her help, and because no matter the grudges she might hold, it was hard to hate someone whose life you could feel slipping away beneath your hands.

Zuko was cold and clammy, his pulse racing, his skin taking on an unhealthy grayish cast. He was gasping for breath. The damage might have been repaired, but there was nothing she could do to restore the blood he'd already lost: and he had lost a lot of it. Too much.

"Katara? Katara, what's wrong with him?"

"Organ failure," she said grimly. "He's lost too much blood."

"This is all my fault." From the corner of her eye, she could see Sokka burying his face in his hands. "I shouldn't have let him come with me, the prison break was _my idea_ , I should have known better, I should've—"

"Somebody get him out of here!" she snapped. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father stand up, pull her brother back despite his expression of panic, and guide him gently but firmly out of the room with an arm wrapped around his shoulders.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Aang asked quietly.

" _You_ can get me more water." She raised her voice to carry to the whole room. "Anyone who doesn't need to be here, clear out. You're not going to help either of us by becoming a distraction."

Katara had no idea how long she ended up kneeling there on the cold metal floor. Long enough for her knees to get sore. Long enough for night to have fallen. Long enough for the glow to fade from her water as her hands started shaking with fatigue. It would have to do: she had done all she could. She pushed herself to her feet, and called the others back in.

"He's not fully out of danger, but he's as stable as I can get him. Best thing to do right now is get him to a bed, keep him warm, and keep him _quiet_. The next few hours, he's going to have to pull through on his own." There were worried nods all around. After a bit of quiet discussion, her father and Sokka, whose eyes were rimmed with red, worked together to maneuver Zuko onto a blanket, each of them grasping one end to carry him out of the room on the makeshift stretcher. Wordlessly, Aang wrapped an arm around her waist and let her lean on him as he guided her off the airship—she was yawning every few seconds.

Her father met them just outside of the airship. After a brief nonverbal exchange, Aang stepped back and let her father scoop her into his arms. She did not resist; after her mother had died she had spent so much of her life taking care of other people, and it was nice, for once, to be able to let someone else take care of _her_.

"I miss Mom," she whispered into her father's chest as he carried her back to her spot around the campfire.

"I do too, Sweetie," he answered, planting a kiss on her forehead. "I do too."

* * *

When he finally managed to fight his way back to consciousness, the first thought to cross his mind was surprise that he wasn't actually dead.

No, _of course_ he wasn't dead. Zuko was pretty sure dead people didn't feel this horrible.

He was dizzy. He was nauseated. He was so thirsty it seemed like the inside of his mouth and throat were made out of parchment. He felt too weak even to raise his head, much less get up and train Aang like he was supposed to.

The second thing he noticed was that he couldn't move. Even if he _did_ have the strength, his whole body seemed to be thoroughly wrapped up, and there was a weight on top of his legs.

Having finally managed to peel his eyelids open, he blinked a few times in an effort to take in his surroundings. Somehow, he'd gotten back to his room at the Western Air Temple, where he'd been left in his bed with several layers' worth of blankets wrapped around him, some of them so snugly they pinned his arms to his sides—that explained why he couldn't move. The weight on his legs turned out to be Sokka's upper body; the other boy was sitting in a chair by his bedside, but at some point had slumped over and fallen asleep himself.

"Hey." His voice came out in a croak; he cleared his throat and tried again. "Hey!" Just for good measure, he made his best effort to kick Sokka awake, and barely even succeeded in making one of his legs twitch.

Somehow, it still did the trick: Sokka snapped awake and jerked upright with much wild flailing of his arms.

"Zuko!" he exclaimed with a wide grin, voice loud enough to make Zuko's head pound. "You're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Terrible." Then, with a groan, he attempted to roll towards the edge of the bed.

"Whoa, whoa!" Before he could even so much as _try_ to sit up Sokka was pushing him back down, and Zuko was far too weak to resist. "Where do you think _you're_ going?"

"Going to train Aang." He once again tried to get out of bed, but Sokka didn't seem inclined to remove his hand from his chest, and Zuko gave him his best glare. "You know, like I'm _supposed_ to be doing."

"Nuh-uh." Like it or not, he wasn't getting up until Sokka got off of him, and Sokka was _not_ getting off of him. "You are going to stay in bed and you are going to _rest_. Spirits, Zuko, you just about _died_. I'm pretty sure Aang will understand if you take a few days off to recover."

"Yeah?" Zuko glared up at him. "And what did your sister have to say about me lazing around in bed all day when I'm _supposed_ to be training the Avatar?"

Sokka stood up fully then, crossing his arms with a smirk. "Oh, Katara? _She's_ the one who told me to make sure you didn't get out of bed, and that if you make all of her hard work go to waste by killing yourself, she's going to hunt you down in your next incarnation just so she can kill you again." As quickly as the smirk had come, though, it was gone. "Seriously, though. Katara fixed you up, but you still lost a _lot_ of blood, and there wasn't a whole lot she could do about that. Unless you _want_ to make her angrier with you than she already is, you'll follow the healer's orders."

Zuko was opening his mouth to argue farther, never mind that he knew he'd already lost this one, when the silhouette of another person darkened the light that was filtering in through the doorway. "Dad!" Sokka shouted, turning toward the door with a grin. "Dad, he woke up!"

"I can see that." Chief Hakoda smiled briefly at Sokka, before turning his attention to him. "Zuko, do you feel up to drinking anything? I've got some medicine here that'll help with the blood loss."

Zuko considered. His stomach was still churning, but his mouth was _so dry_ , and he thought that if it was something that would help him get better, he ought to be able to keep it down. Probably. "Sure."

The Chief nodded, and moved to take the chair that Sokka had vacated. Before Zuko could even begin to attempt to free his arms from the blankets, the older man was gently cradling his head with one hand and holding a small flask to his lips with the other.

"Katara said we should get some fluids into you, too," Chief Hakoda said after Zuko had finished choking down the contents of the flask, immediately producing another. "And hey, it'll help get that nasty taste out of your mouth. Drink as much as you can, but take it slow, and let me know if you start feeling like you're about to be sick."

He then proceeded to give Zuko the contents of the second flask in the same manner as the first, tipping it into his mouth one sip at a time and giving him plenty of time to swallow before letting him have any more. There was something about the older man's mannerisms that reminded him so strongly of Uncle that without warning, Zuko felt his eyes burning, and a few seconds later there were tears streaming down his face.

"Zuko? Is something wrong?"

Zuko didn't answer. He _couldn't_ answer. _Everything_ was wrong, he wanted to say. Instead, he pulled away, and the Chief let him. With no one supporting him, he didn't even have the strength to lift his head, so he turned away from the Water Tribesmen as best he could, pressing the good side of his face into the pillow in an effort to hide his tears.

Not that it even mattered anymore whether either of them saw his tears.

Beside him, he could hear a worried conversation between Sokka and his father, but with his good ear pressed into the pillow the voices came to him muffled and unclear. He could not understand what they were saying. For some reason this only made him cry harder, the silent stream of tears giving way to harsh gasps that shook his whole body.

A few minutes later, the voices stopped, and Zuko felt the bed dip under someone else's weight. He did not attempt to turn to see who it was, just lay there and continued to sob as a hand reached out to gently rub his shoulder through the layers of blankets.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this came out _awfully_ similar to "Chained to a Wall", but oh well.
> 
> (That's Sokka sitting on the bed at the end there, by the way. Hakoda is concerned, but he's also trying not to overstep any boundaries with this severely abused teenager he's literally just met.)


End file.
